


Adagio

by creepy_crawly



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Oral Sex, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Adagio</i>, from the French <i>adage</i>, meaning "at ease" or "easily." Which, to Luhan, describe what Minseok makes her feel perfectly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Rule63!Ballet!AU in which Luhan is the principle ballerina of the Chinese National Ballet, Minseok is one of 8 Korean boys in EXO, and they live across the hall from one another. And have sex. Lots of sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adagio

Minseok’s eyes trace the long, smooth line of Luhan’s legs, following the soft curve of her knee and the tight arch of her foot as she turns in a quick circle. Her head snaps around ahead of her hips, and her hands arc in front of her body, deceptively small and fine-boned. Her lips are curving, too, in a soft twist that’s two parts determination and one part pure joy.

 

Luhan is gorgeous when she dances. Well, Minseok corrects himself, she’s gorgeous all the time, but it’s especially true when she’s in her element. Even in her ratty tank top and her worn-out sweatpants which she’s cut above the knee, she is perfect. Her hair is sweaty and sticking to her forehead in tiny little curls, and he knows that the hollow of her back will be wet beneath his fingers. Still, he reaches out, catches her as she finishes the pirouette, her feet flattening out and her legs tucking unthinkingly into place.

 

“Going to dance with me?” she asks. Her eyes shine, and she’s wearing a real smile, a messy one that wrinkles her nose and creases her eyes.

 

“Kris would kill me for ruining the Chinese National Ballet’s prima ballerina,” Minseok says, grinning himself. “We both know I can’t do ballet.”

 

Running through her cool-down routine, Luhan laughs at him. “Duizhang wouldn’t kill you,” she says, as she folds herself in half. She tilts her head to look up at him, an impossible origami of flesh and bone. “Maybe maim you a little.”

 

And he would, Minseok is sure of that. Luhan’s manager, her chaperone, is the man who (supposedly) protects her virtue from the fact that she shares an apartment with the two other principle dancers, both of them male. Kris can be tough with her—he has been known to actually pick her up and carry her over his shoulder, kicking and flailing, to make sure she stops dancing until her ankle is a little stronger—but, generally speaking, he’s a very sweet man. He’s blunt, casual, and not half as cool as he seems at first. Minseok likes him, but he knows that Kris would cheerfully end him if he hurt Luhan, whether physically or emotionally.

 

As he watches, leaning against the wall, Luhan works her way through a carefully-choreographed routine, stretching out well-worked muscles, letting them cool down slowly so that she won’t cramp up. Even now, that she’s finished actually dancing, her every move is smooth and fluid, like she’s responding to some rhythm that only she can hear. She inhabits her body fully, perfectly fitting inside her skin, music taken flesh.

 

“You’re staring,” Luhan says, and the corner of her lips quirks up.

 

Minseok meets her eyes in the mirror. “Nice view,” he says, shameless as ever. He knows Luhan is beautiful and he also knows that she knows she is beautiful. Dancers, he has come to understand, and ballet dancers in particular, know exactly how their bodies are seen by others. It’s something like being an idol, he imagines, except that he can wear real clothes. She is, at best, in a lycra shirt. Sometimes even less.

 

“Thinking about tonight?” she asks. She whirls on him, trusting him to fold her into his embrace.

 

He does not disappoint. Holding her close, he presses a kiss just under her ear. He laughs when she shivers and punches at his shoulder. “Sounds like you have plans for me.”

 

She pulls away, haughty and gorgeous. “You’re going down on me tonight,” Luhan declares, straightening her spine as tight as it will go and setting her shoulders. She nods sharply, her lips set in a firm line. “Until I scream.”

 

Minseok laughs and wraps an arm around her tiny hips, tucking her against his body once more. Even stretching herself up, she is compact, short for a ballerina, perfect for him. “I think I can manage that, princess,” he says. He leans in and kisses her. “Any preferences of what occurs _before_ I turn you into a puddle of skin?”

 

She shivers against him. “No,” she says, trying to sound strict, though the word comes out breathy and sweet. “No. Just that.” She clears her throat. “I mean, that is my only command.”

 

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Minseok whispers, letting the words slide through the sweaty strands of her hair. He wishes, oh, how he wishes, that he didn’t have to let her go, that he could pick her up, right here and right now, carry her down to her room (his has a Baekhyun in it), and get to work. Luhan dancing is gorgeous. Luhan lost in pleasure is _breathtaking_.

 

Her chest heaving from more than her exertions, her nipples visible through the worn cotton of her tank-top, Luhan looks up at Minseok with big doe eyes. She’s shifting against him, her thighs rubbing together, and he knows, he _knows_ that she is wet with more than sweat right now. When she makes a soft, broken sound, biting down on the dark flesh of her lower lip, he snaps.

 

“Min!” she gasps, her hands flying to his shoulders as he pushes her the last few inches up against the wall. “Min, I have—”

 

“A salon date, I know,” he says, his voice rough even to his own ears. “I’ll make this fast, princess.” He leans in, so that her hips ride up against the curve of his pelvis, just for a second, and kisses her warmly. “I promise. Five minutes or less.”

 

She laughs, easing back against the wall. “Confident, aren’t you?”

 

He just winks, covering her with his own body as he kisses her again. One hand slides up under her loose shirt, tracing the strong lines of her muscles from her belly to her breasts. They are small enough that he can easily cover one with his palm, letting the rougher skin there offer her all the friction she could want. His other hand settles on her hip, and he pulls her, pushes her, urges her to start up that so-natural rhythm.

 

It doesn’t take much. She moans into his mouth, her fingers sinking through his hair, combing forward until she is cradling the back of his skull with one hand, the other slinking down his back, settling between his shoulders and pulling him hard against her. She rides his thigh shamelessly, eager and hungry. They’re on a timeline, after all, and Luhan has never been shy about her pleasure.

 

“That’s it, baby,” Minseok says, breaking the kiss but staying pressed as close as he can. “Come on. You look so beautiful like that. Look at you, mm, most beautiful woman in the world, my Luhannie.”

 

Luhan shudders as he purrs the words into her ear, her eyes falling shut. She sinks her nails into his skin, desperate to hang on. Minseok knows how to tease her and how to get her off, how to hold her on the edge for hours and how to tip her right over in seconds. And the way he’s tweaking her nipples, just thumbing them with the rough outside edge of his thumb and then, oh!, pinching them quick and fast—that’s a good way to get her off.

 

She bites her bottom lip, working her hips against his thigh. He’s just, just hovering there, letting her do what she wants, do what she _needs_ , and _god_ , but she _needs_. Her head drops forward, landing in the curve of his neck, and he just laughs and brings an arm around her. She lets him hold her because, frankly, all her focus is on her own pleasure right now and damn, if he’s going to make it easier, then she’s going to let him.

 

“Come on, princess,” he whispers, his lips tracing shivery lines against her throat. “You’re so close. So close, baby. You wanna come for me?”

 

“Uh huh,” Luhan pants, inhaling the rich stink of his sweat from his shoulder as she does so. She can almost taste him, taste the salt-sweet taste of him beneath the cotton of his shirt in her mouth, open against his shoulder. She whines, suddenly, feeling his fingers teasing down the back of her sweatpants, tickling against her thick tights.

 

“No panties?” Minseok asks her. “Naughty girl.” His fingers trail around the line of her hip to the front of her pants, and then his well-manicured nails are teasing under the sweaty band of her tights, down to where her wild curls have started to grow back since her last trip to the salon, since the last opening night.

 

She shudders violently and thrusts up against him, cocking her hips to meet his hand, and oh, but that was a great decision, because his thumb is sitting there, just _there_ against her clit. She whines again, nails clenching in his soft skin.

 

“I’m gonna make you come, princess,” Minseok tells her. “Gonna make you come. You gonna come for me?”

 

“Pl-please,” she begs, now shivering violently and uncontrollably. “MinMin, please!”

 

He coos nonsense to her, and his thumb is moving fast and sure against her, right there, right there, _right there…!_

Luhan comes with a sharp, short scream, cut off suddenly as she buries her teeth in his shoulder. She clings to Minseok with every sharp edge she’s got, with nail and tooth and sheer determination, feeling her body thrash against him.

 

Minseok holds her through it, keeping all her shattered pieces together, keeping her from flying all apart. He presses soft kisses to the top of her head, and slowly eases her back to her own feet. When her legs wobble, weak as a newborn fawn, he holds onto her, laughing a little at the frustration on her face. Luhan is not used to being just an observer in her own body, and her disgust at not being in total control is clear.

 

“Fuck,” she moans, finally, leaning back against the wall. She bats at Minseok’s hand. “I hope you bruise like a motherfucker,” she says.

 

Laughing slightly, Minseok rubs at the spot on his neck that is starting to ache. He is going to bruise, and it’s going to be a thing of beauty. The coordinoonas are _not_ going to let it go. Luhan, he knows, won’t care about that. She’ll probably be proud of it. She usually is.

 

Speaking of Luhan…

 

She kicks weakly at his shin. “Fucker. I’m going to have to wash these tights tonight, thanks. You’re damn lucky I’m wearing shorts.”

 

He ignores her grumbling in favor of kissing her again. For as grumpy as she plays, she certainly kisses him sweet enough, her hands smoothing soft and loving down his chest.

 

“Okay,” she says finally, breaking the kiss. “I really do need to get going. I’ll see you tonight?”

 

Minseok nods. “I’ll be in all night. Just drop in when you get back.”

 

She stands _en pointe_ and kisses the tip of his nose, and then she’s vanishing out the door.

 

\---

 

“Zitao cried when they waxed his armpits,” Luhan announces, throwing herself down on the floor in front of Minseok’s feet. With the hand not full of pointe shoes and ribbons, she snags some of Sehun’s popcorn. She sticks her tongue out at him when he scowls at her.

 

“You wax your armpits?” Jongin asks.

 

Luhan shakes her head. “Me, no. I got lasered when I started getting good roles. TaoTao, yes, at least this time, because it would ‘look weird’.” She throws in the air quotes with, Minseok notes, freshly-polished fingernails. Bright orange. God only knows what her costume for the Fire Queen must look like, if that’s the color the costumier selected for her.

 

Minseok hooks an ankle against her hip. “The rest of it not too traumatic for anyone?” He accepts the ribbon she hands him, holding it as directed.

 

“Well, I think Zitao’s afraid of vaginas,” she says, starting to sew the ribbon in at the sides of her pointe shoes. She pops her neck, either ignoring or not seeing the looks Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are slanting in her direction. “Or maybe just mine. What are we watching?”

 

“The Avengers,” Junmyeon says. He sounds a little strangled.

 

Luhan perks up, her fingers working quickly. “Ooh, I haven’t seen it yet. Do you mind, MinMin?”

 

He shakes his head, taking another ribbon from her, holding it still. “Whatever you want, princess.”

 

She beams, her eyes creasing up in her face. Her hands do not stop working. She told him once that, at this point in her career, she has spent so many hours sewing pointe shoes that she can probably do it in her sleep. He’s seen the collection of shoes and elastics and ribbons she keeps; it’s likely true.

 

And suddenly, Minseok imagines another living room, another time, years from now, with Luhan sewing pointe shoes and him helping and it just…being them. Her sweet smile, the one that she really means, not the sharp-edged glimmer that flashes through performances and interviews, beaming up at him, or across the dinner table, or… He can feel the pit of his belly grow warm, and the heat rises up, like a balloon in his chest, swelling behind his ribs, making his heart ache.

 

Swallowing hard, he turns back to the movie.

 

\---

 

Luhan laughs quietly when he tumbles her down on to his bed, her bright eyes dancing. She lets him steal away her yoga pants and her panties, leering at him as his fingers hook through the lacy waistband. Mock-modest, she presses her muscular thighs close together and curls her legs close. Her hands flutter down to cover the still-red skin of her mons. “MinMin!”

 

He tosses her panties over his shoulder. “Yes, princess?” he asks, stepping out of his own trousers. He’s not ashamed of cock, already hard and eager, curving up towards his belly. She’s seen it before, and in various stages of erect. Besides, he knows for a fact that she likes his cock.

 

Sure enough, she’s grinning, the very tip of her very pink tongue caught between her teeth. When she realizes she’s been caught looking, she doesn’t so much as blush, just tosses her head back against his pillow and winks. “Well, MinMin? What’ya gonna do?”

 

Minseok kneels on the edge of the mattress, wrapping his hands around hers. He loves how small and delicate they feel in his grasp. “Well,” he begins, slowly shifting forward, moving her hands out and away from her body, exposing her to his eyes. “I believe I was commanded to go down on you. Until you scream?”

 

She laughs, spreading her legs for him, a fluid motion she’s done a thousand million times, and rarely for so wonderful a reason as _him_.

 

Minseok takes a long moment to just enjoy the sight of her, all long limbs and soft skin, lithe muscle packed close to the bone, splayed for his pleasure. He loves the little flutter beneath her belly button as she breathes, the way it quickens beneath his eyes. He loves the perfect curve of her thigh meeting her hip, loves the tiny folds of skin that crease there. They are reddened and angry, still, from the wax that ripped away the hair. Taking her knee in one hand, caging her hip against the bed with the other, Minseok leans forward and presses a soft, apologetic kiss to that sweet bend of skin.

 

A breathy sound escapes Luhan. The muscle beneath his tongue jumps.

 

Grinning, Minseok takes his time, tracing the line of the jumping muscle with the point of his tongue, tasting her skin. He presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to the thin, sensitive skin of her inner thighs, going from left to right and back again in a random progression. He’s careful not to apply too much suction; when all she’s got on her plate is class and rehearsal, she doesn’t mind (likes it, even, bruises blushing up like plums on her pale skin) but tomorrow’s the dress and the night after that is opening night, and nine thousand people are going to be staring at the fine skin of her inner thighs, and she needs to be perfect as a porcelain doll.

 

Hence the smooth kiss of her hairless skin beneath his lips. She cries out as he breathes, hot and steady, across the soft swell of her most intimate skin, her fingers clenching in the sheets. Minseok smirks against her, letting her feel the edge of his teeth.

 

She sighs out his name on a shaky breath, a soft trembling of air and want. “Minseok.”

 

“Hmm?”  He purrs his question into her skin, his fingers still tracing the arch of her pelvis. God, he loves the feel of her, the velvet softness of her untouched skin, the sweet satiny press of the skin she moisturizes and waxes and moisturizes again, the warmth and the dewing humidity as her desire rises. Here, at this part of her, this secret core, she is soft in ways that she has stripped away from the rest of her body. Delicate, he scrapes his teeth along the midline of her body.

 

The motion earns him a low, quiet wail, Luhan’s fingers tangling so tight in the sheets that she nearly pulls them off the bed. Her legs twitch violently, and her hips jump, just beneath his chin. She releases the sheet and slowly, shakily, sinks a hand into Minseok’s hair. “You _bastard_ ,” she hisses, her fingers clenching and releasing rhythmically.

 

Minseok laughs, enjoying the wild heave of her chest. He loves doing this to her, getting her so close to the edge, letting the pleasure shock her without ever giving her what she needs to take it all the way. He’s still laughing as she uses her grip on his hair to tug his head down to where she wants it. After all, it’s where he was headed, anyway.

 

Wasting no more time, he presses a quick kiss to her clit, and then sets to work. Beneath his open mouth, Luhan is wet and growing wetter. He doesn’t bother teasing her any longer, choosing instead to dive in, burying his face between the apex of her thighs. His nose is full of the soft, sweet scent of after-waxing lotion, and the taste of her is in his mouth, strong and bright and salty-slick.

 

Beneath his tongue, her skin is soft and delicate. He seals his lips around her weeping center and lets his tongue do the real work. Luhan, never shy about what she wants, has him well-trained in how to work her over. He starts with broad, slow strokes of his tongue, licking all the way up and then letting himself ease his way back down, while she shudders beneath him. Her hands land on his, curled over her hips, and her fingers twine with his as he starts moving a little faster, putting a little more force behind the motions.

 

Luhan’s heart is fluttering in her chest, and she’s breathing rapidly, little tight whimpers escaping her mouth as she lets herself fall into Minseok’s care. His tongue is hot and wonderful, a bright point of sensation that is first _here_ and then _there_ and never anywhere long enough to let her take control. Groaning, she bites her lip and lets her hips buck up into Minseok’s embrace, crying out when the motion jars his nose against her clit.

 

He laughs, and the sound trembles through where he is still pressed against her. She squeals, both from the vibration and from the hot rush of his breath across her swollen lips. The muscles in her thighs strain, and she has to remind herself to not let them slam on either side of his head. He needs to be able to breathe to do this, after all. But the slick feel of his tongue on her folds, teasing against her clit—it’s almost too much.

 

Minseok pulls away, just slightly, and Luhan whines, stretching grasping fingers for him. He laughs again, just a little, and kisses her fingertips. Taking a deep breath, he dives back in, sealing his lips to her once more with a wonderfully sloppy sound. Now, he wastes not a second, licking and sucking and flicking his tongue in a rapid-fire stream of pleasure. It is as if he is trying to drink her dry, Luhan thinks dizzily, her neck arching.

 

And the, oh, _oh!_ He’s got her clit in his mouth and he’s sucking, hard, and she’s so close she can taste it, can feel her body curling tight in readiness—

 

And Minseok releases her, backs away.

 

Luhan shrieks, wordless and frustrated.

 

Minseok doesn’t leave her waiting long, though. Heaving in breaths that make his muscular chest rise and fall in unsteady swells, he lunges forward and kisses her, smearing her face with the same slick wetness that glistens on his chin and mouth. He kisses her with the taste of her body still in his mouth, lets her lick her own pleasure from his tongue, twines it with the sweet taste of her mouth. He pushes her back into his nest of pillows, tossing the excess away, uncaring of where they fall.

 

She writhes against him, getting closer and more comfortable, slotting their bodies together in a better position for the both of them. Minseok snatches her hand away from the crease of his thigh, seconds before her fingers tighten in a wicked pinch, and she snarls into his mouth. When he pulls back, she growls, her lips red, swollen, and contorted in a wicked look.

 

“Finish what you fucking start, Min,” she snaps.

 

He grins saucily down at her, even as one hand slides back down the lithe line of her body. “You just said make you scream, princess.”

 

He supposes he deserves the kick she lands, her heel slamming into his ass. It jolts him against her, though, and he moans as they both brush against the hand he has settled between them. Luhan sighs out, every muscle in her body tightening and then abruptly loosening.

 

“Fuck me,” she begs, her pretty eyes closed and her mouth hanging open. Her hair is spread across his pillow, an inky spill of silky black that makes the hectic red flush of her face seem incandescent.

 

“As my princess commands,” Minseok murmurs. He kisses her again, sliding one finger into her, crooking it up just to feel her squirm. He doesn’t tease her much more, though; he’s already pushed her to the edge too much for her to put up with more.

 

Luhan arches as he fucks into her, swift, short thrusts that bring him deeper and deeper, until they are close-pressed as a man and a woman may be. His hands are tight on her hips, and she clings to his shoulders, as if afraid he will vanish. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and her eyes are screwed shut, sweat beading across her hairline. Minseok sees none of this, his eyes own eyes closed as he fights for control, his jaw hanging down as he pants for air. The air between them seems too hot, too thick to be real, to be breathable.

 

Maybe he is breathing her in, he imagines, the fantastical thought sparking through his brain even as she whines and ruts against him, demanding action.

 

Well. Who is he to deny her anything?

 

Luhan is a being of constant motion, writhing and arching and giving just as good as she gets. Her hands meet his, then disconnect, now on his thighs, now scratching down his chest. For all that she hates him looking at her feet, she has no qualms using them to get him right where she wants him, her legs wrapping around his hips, folding in ways that only a ballerina can accomplish.

 

Minseok doesn’t make her do all of the work, either. He’s with her every centimeter of the way, a hand curving to cup her ass, the other behind one small shoulder, or tipping her chin so that he can kiss her—so that they can moan into one another’s mouths, breathe one another’s air. When her spine arches, so high and tight that is seems she might snap, he catches one small breast with his mouth, sucking in the minimal fat that surrounds her dark areola, letting his teeth scrape just so against her nipple. He brings his other hand up, so that her other tit will not feel unloved.

 

He is so focused on not coming, on not losing himself before she reaches her peak, that Luhan’s orgasm takes him entirely by surprise. A low, wonderful groan tears itself from her throat, and the impossible curve of her spine eases somewhat, becoming softer, more liquid and sweet. Her hands, on his wrists, tighten to just this side of bruising, and he can feel her thighs shuddering against his pelvis. She grinds down against him as she comes, her pussy throbbing around him in tight, rhythmic pulses that pull him over the edge with her.

 

\---

 

Minseok is breathing softly in her ear, his heart slowing back to something resembling normal. His fingers curl lazy and soft over her hip, against her belly, his thumb inscribing fat arcs over her skin. Luhan knows that Minseok is neither truly awake nor truly asleep at this moment; he is inhabiting a space made entirely of sated exhaustion. She’s familiar with it, herself, from years of dancing until her legs collapse under her.

 

She sighs sleepily, curving her body into the seashell mold of his frame. Morning will come far too soon, with loud alarms and louder roommates; Baekhyun might be staying with Chanyeol and Jongdae for the night, but he will return. Yifan will come fetch her if he thinks that she’s taking too long, his willingness to feign ignorance only going so far. And she is worn to the bone; her day has been long, starting before the sun and replete with rehearsals and classes and workouts and warm-ups and cool-downs and trips to the salon.

 

And Minseok. Always Minseok.

 

He murmurs something into her throat, his strong arm shifting. He pulls her closer, pressing her naked belly to his own. His hand settles, loose and limp, in the small of her back. The fingers of his other hand play idly through the ends of her hair, where they tumble off the pillow she has stolen. The ticklish feel resonates all the way up to her scalp.

 

Luhan loves having her hair played with, especially when it’s being done for fun and not for work. Minseok seems to have a knack for it, anyway, knowing how much is enough and how much is too much, as well as having mastered the differences between soothing and playing.

 

What he’s doing now, with long, steady twines of his fingers, is soothing. The hand on her back is back in motion, too, thumb once more drawing shapes. He puts just enough pressure in the movement to keep it from being ticklish, and Luhan feels her eyelids growing heavier by the second. She gives in to the inexorable weight, sighing once more. Tucking her head under Minseok’s chin, so that her face is pressed against his neck, Luhan lets herself relax.

 

“Sleep,” Minseok mumbles, the pillows shifting as he moves the arm under them to cradle her.

 

Surrounded by the smell and feel of him, she does.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know jack-all about ballet, so please, feel free to yell at me and I will fix things. Also, yes, this is a one-shot from what will undoubtedly end up being a larger 'verse. Thank you endlessly to the unnies for making this happen (aka kicking me in the ass and cheerleading in equal measure.)


End file.
